


Not the Same River at my Fingertips

by giselleslash



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Feels, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Christmas, Drunk Sex, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Holidays, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Morning After, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One Night Stands, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 21:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9204176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giselleslash/pseuds/giselleslash
Summary: Steve desperately needs a ride home for Christmas but the last person he wants to take help from is Bucky Barnes. There’s a one night stand gone badly and four years of hurt feelings and misunderstandings between them.Of course there's a road trip home that goes perfectly smoothly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the result of watching far too many Hallmark holiday movies. (I regret nothing.) And I know it's past Christmas but I figured stupid boys in love full of misunderstandings and feelings are okay any time of the year. 
> 
> ~title from John Daniel Thieme

“You do know that Bucky is driving home too,” Sam said as he folded up a shirt. “You could always snag a ride with him.”

“I’m not that desperate, Sam.”

“It kinda seems like you are though.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. I’m desperate to get home, but I’m not sure I’m ‘twelve hours in a car with Bucky Barnes’ desperate,” Steve said.

“Suit yourself,” Sam said as he shoved the last of his clothes into his duffel. “I’ll just continue to not get why you hate Bucky so much that you’ll miss Christmas rather than take his help.”

Steve shrugged. He didn’t really have a response for Sam anyway. It wasn’t like he could tell him the real reason he tried to avoid Bucky Barnes at all cost. It was such a stupid freshman mistake; one drunk night and an idiotic belief that Bucky felt anything at all for him. Steve always cringed when he thought back to what he was like at eighteen; naive and inexperienced. 

He’d barely taken more than a sip or two of beer in his life, so of course he’d get disastrously drunk at his first college party. He’d also been horribly inexperienced in the whole flirting and men and sex thing, so of course he’d fling himself into bed with the first hot guy he saw at the party. 

Of course he would.

Because Steve never did anything by halves. His whole life he’d always run full-tilt and headfirst into everything - usually to calamitous, awkward, or humiliating results. Sometimes all three if he’d been having a particularly stellar day. And, well, lots and lots and lots of beer and Bucky’s ridiculously hideous face made for a particularly awesome combination of all three.

They’d flirted, well, Bucky had, Steve was pretty sure he just stared at Bucky cross-eyed and made stupid jokes - most likely involving puns, for some reason drunk Steve thought puns were the height of wit and humor. Then they’d danced, or really just plastered themselves to one another and furiously groped each other as they kissed. And before Steve knew it he was in Bucky’s bed being deflowered in the most spectacular way, so, naturally, he fell head over heels. 

Steve had just about made it around the proverbial bases in high school but had never quite managed to score a run so it wasn’t like he’d never been kissed before, or gotten a blow job, or been jerked off. He hadn’t ever been expecting some unlikely, impossibly perfect first time. He’d really just been hoping for someone to share it with who knew what they were doing and wanted Steve just as much as he wanted them. 

And Jesus fuck did Bucky know what he was doing. 

He knew what he was doing so well that they managed to do it three times before they passed out from exhaustion. 

The first time had been embarrassingly fast, at least on Steve’s side of things, the second had been just as frantic but thankfully more prolonged, and the third. Goddamn. The third had been the deal breaker. They’d fallen asleep after the second and Steve had woken up to Bucky kissing his neck, the jut of his collarbone, and his fingers carding through his hair. The touch had been so delicate that Steve hadn’t been able to breathe for a moment. When Bucky slid into him that third time; Steve on his back, and Bucky covering him so solid and heavy on top of him, his fingers slid between Steve’s own, it was inevitable Steve would lose his mind.

He’d looked up at Bucky looking down at him and wondered if a person could fall in love in one night. Because drunkenness had long since passed and the moment had felt profound in a way Steve wasn’t sure he was equipped to handle. 

And he’d been right. 

The next morning he woke up expecting a fourth...and hopefully a fifth and a sixth go, but what he got was an empty bed. He’d hoped Bucky was just in the bathroom but when he got up to explore the apartment all he’d found was a redhead sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and looking at her phone. She hadn’t been at all surprised to find a strange, barely dressed man in her kitchen and Steve had never felt more humiliated in his life when she’d tried to sound reassuring telling him she was sure Bucky’d be right back when he’d asked about him. Steve knew he looked like a pathetic, desperate fool when all he was able to say was, ‘oh.’ He was sure she could see the love sickness pouring off of him in waves. 

Steve’d never gotten dressed and out the door so quickly in his life. 

But of course Steve’s life being Steve’s life, the next semester he walked into his freshman level art history class to find Bucky sitting front and center. Wishing himself invisible didn’t work and when Bucky saw him standing in the door of the classroom like an idiot he’d waved him over. 

Steve tried so fucking hard to be aloof and uncaring when Bucky asked him how he was. He’d been stand-offish and downright rude, and when he’d just shrugged when Bucky asked him where he’d gone that morning Bucky had the audacity to look hurt by his brusque response. Steve remembered scowling after Bucky had nodded and whispered, ‘Okay. Yeah. I get it.’ 

Like he hadn’t known how to respond to Steve, or had been the one wronged. 

Like he hadn’t been the one so desperate to not talk to Steve in the morning that he’d left his own damn apartment to avoid him.

After that first day Bucky had ignored him and Steve had silently seethed behind him during every class session until the end of the semester. The only reason he passed the course at all was because of his own prior knowledge of art because he sure as hell didn’t pay attention to the professor, not when he could sit there and burn holes into the shockingly delicate looking curve of Bucky’s neck. 

It took him another semester, and meeting Sam, to figure out he didn’t hate Bucky Barnes’ guts - not the way he tried to tell himself he did - he simply ached with the pain of rejection, and a chest full of stupid, annoying emotions. Because of course Sam ended up being friends with Bucky, even worse, he was dating the redhead from Bucky’s apartment, so Steve had to suck it up and be a big boy if he wanted to remain friends with Sam. Bucky inevitably came along with the Sam package. 

Bucky was only ever nice to him, an aloof kindness he only displayed with him, with everyone else Bucky was openly affectionate, gregarious in the most appealing way. He was the sort of person you _wanted_ to be near. He was fun, and funny, and someone people could always count on if there was any truth to what Sam said about him. Steve was never on the receiving end of any of that, he never got that part of Bucky, he just got the politeness of a casual acquaintance. 

Steve tried not to let it hurt him, but every time Bucky would join them for a beer or a game of pool and would say something to make him laugh until his sides hurt everything else inside him hurt even more because the want would burn. He wanted Bucky, still, so fucking much. He wanted to be able to lean into his side, laugh into his neck, be the one Bucky was trying so hard to make laugh. He saw how Bucky was with Sam and Natasha, and their other friends, and Steve wanted it too. But more. So much more.

And he’d never get it because Bucky hadn’t wanted him. 

So, no, he didn’t hate Bucky Barnes, in fact, he loved him rather desperately. But the pain of unrequited love sometimes looks like dismissal, or hate, on the outside, and Steve had been fucking it all up for so long there wasn’t really a point now in setting Sam and everyone else straight. 

“I don’t _hate_ Bucky,” Steve said, finally, after following Sam out into their living room. “Not in, like, an evil villain kind of way at least.”

“Oh, well that’s good.” Sam said. “I mean at least there’s that distinction.”

“We just never clicked is all, no big deal.”

“But here’s the thing, man, if it was just that you’d let him drive your skinny ass back home for Christmas. I’ve always known there’s more to the story but neither one of you will say shit so I’m stuck here in the middle. You know how I hate when mommy and daddy fight.”

Steve frowned. “Funny.”

“Just text him and ask if you can ride along with him back home. You’ll regret it if you don’t, and you’ll make your momma sad. I won’t abide by you making Momma Rogers sad.”

Steve had to laugh a little at that, Sam had come to visit them a few times over summer breaks and he was pretty sure Sam’s love for his mom almost matched his own. And he knew for sure that sometimes his mom’s love for Sam was bigger than her love for him - especially if she knew what an ass he was being over the whole ride home with Bucky business.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Okay. I’ll text him,” Steve said. “Although I’m sure he doesn’t want to ride with me as much as I don’t want to ride with him.”

“Doubt it. Dude likes you.”

“Sure, whatever.”

“No, seriously,” Sam said. “He has nothing but good things to say about you. He likes you, man, which is another reason why I’ve never been able to figure you two out. I’ve always thought you’d be good together.”

“Sam, come on, he’s never been anything but casually polite to me. You’re delusional.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say.” 

The tone of Sam’s voice pretty solidly told Steve he was an idiot, but Steve wasn’t about to give himself the slightest bit of hope that Sam might be correct. There was no way. Sam was clearly the idiot in the scenario, seeing things that weren’t there. He could hardly believe that Bucky said anything at all to Sam, much less good things about him. 

“Are you sure he wasn’t drunk when he supposedly said all of those great things about me?” Steve asked.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer. I live in hope that one day the two of you will wake the hell up so I can laugh at you both. Nat will join me.”

“You and Nat deserve each other.”

“Yeah, I know we do. We’re both hotter and smarter than the people around us.”

Steve laughed. “Oh my god, go away. Go home. I promise I’ll text Bucky and ruin his day.”

“Like twelve hours in a car was going to be a joy,” Sam said. “Maybe now he can enjoy it by annoying you.”

“Always looking on the bright side of things.”

“That’s me.” Sam grinned at him and started grabbing all of his stuff. Steve picked up a bag to help him haul it all down to his car.

“Tell Nat Merry Christmas for me, and give her a hug and kiss too,” Steve said. 

“I’m not going to mack on my girlfriend on your behalf, man,” Sam laughed as he gave Steve a big hug. 

“You’re just jealous Nat’s getting a kiss and you’re not,” Steve said as he hugged back.

“As a matter of fact I am, where the hell is my kiss?”

Steve leaned in and gave Sam a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek as he laughed at him.

“God, what a disappointment,” Sam said as he wiped off his cheek. “Not even on the mouth. Lame, Rogers.”

Just for that Steve grabbed Sam by the face and pulled him in to give him a kiss on the lips. 

“Better?” he asked as he pushed Sam away.

“Much. God, I was beginning to wonder how you pulled any ass at all with kissing skills like that.”

Steve laughed and shoved at Sam’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas, man. See ya in three weeks.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, asshole,” Sam said as he got in his car. “I’ll miss you.”

“I know you will. You’ll pine for me.”

Sam laughed. “Every damn day!”

Steve waved as Sam drove off until he couldn’t see him anymore. God. He was beginning to suspect he was the one that would be pining. 

He startled when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

_text him_

Steve rolled his eyes. 

_i will. don’t text and drive shithead._

Sam just sent back a winky face emoji. Then a kissy face emoji. Followed by an eggplant emoji.

Jesus fucking Christ, his friends. 

Steve stared at his phone, willing himself to just text Bucky and get it over with. It’s not like it was that big of a deal anyway. It was just a ride home. A twelve hour ride home, but still, just a ride. He could stand a lot more for his mom, but god, making himself actually text Bucky was stupidly difficult.

He sighed and scrolled down to Bucky’s name.

_hey. it’s steve. could i snag a ride home for xmas with you??_

He wasn’t expecting a reply for a while so when his phone buzzed almost immediately it surprised him.

_sure! leaving early tom. 7ish, if that’s okay?_

Ugh, of course he had to sound so nice, and willing about it, like it was no big deal. And a fucking smiley face emoji at the end of it yet too.

_yeah that’s fine. should i come to your place?_

_nah, I’ll pick you up. you’re on my way._

_see ya at 7 then._

_great!_

Steve knew he was probably going to regret this. A lot.

 

~*~

 

Steve basically fell into the car when Bucky pulled up to the curb outside his apartment. He was barely awake and in no mood to deal with the fact he’d be spending the entire day with the stupidly gorgeous love of his life. 

Who abandoned him after a one night stand.

Bucky laughed at him. “Not a morning person, huh?”

Steve almost wanted to say, ‘Well, you’d have known that if you’d bothered to stick around that first morning,’ but managed to hold his tongue. He just grumbled instead.

“Here,” Bucky said as he handed over a cup of coffee. “Maybe this will help.”

Steve perked up at the smell, and gave Bucky a look.

“I hit the drive-thru before coming over. I had a feeling it’d be needed.”

Steve grunted out a thanks and took a sip. His mouth nearly dropped open when he tasted what it was.

“Vanilla Caramel Macchiato from Cool Beans?”

“Uh, yeah?” 

“But that’s not on your way to my place, that’s way over on Delancey.” 

Bucky shrugged. “I know, but it’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

“How did you know though—”

“Steve, your coffee order is ridiculous, and you drink it every day. I’m not sure how you haven’t developed diabetes yet, but here we are.”

“Huh.” Steve hummed.

“What?”

“It’s a nice gesture is all, I’m just surprised.”

“Surprised I’d do something nice?” Bucky asked. “Wow, Steve, easy on the compliments.”

Steve realized what he’d said, and the way it sounded. “Oh shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound the way it did.”

Bucky laughed. “Just drink your coffee, Rogers.”

Steve settled into his seat and watched as Bucky set up his phone and playlists. He was smiling to himself like he was trying not laugh as he did it so Steve thought he was prepared for whatever shit came up. He wasn’t. 

“You’re kidding me, right?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked over at him. “I don’t kid about Mr. Mister.”

They were staring each other down when Bucky started to sing the beginning of ‘Kyrie.’

“The wind blows hard against this mountain side —”

“Oh my god, fuck you.” Steve laughed.

Bucky pulled out onto the street with his left hand as he closed his right into a fist and started pumping it to the beat of the song.

And he kept singing.

“Stooop. I’m getting out. Trip cancelled!”

Steve pretended to make a dive for the door. Bucky laughing and grabbing onto him to pull him back was the only thing that stopped him from singing. 

“‘Broken Wings’ is up next,” Bucky said, and Steve groaned. “Come on, how can you not sing along with this beautiful 80s goodness?”

“Very easily.”

Bucky poked at his side. “You know you want to.”

“It’s too fucking early in the morning for this insanity.”

Bucky pulled on Steve’s sleeve and started to sing again. Very enthusiastically and passionately. He looked like an idiot and it was all Steve could do to keep from laughing at him, or from joining in and singing himself. This was the way Bucky never was with him and he was already soaking it up like a fucking sponge. 

Five minutes into a twelve hour trip and he was already fucked.

When the song hit its crescendo and the chorus beat out as Bucky sung along Steve decided to fuck it all and joined in. Bucky laughed.

“There ya go, Stevie.”

They finished the rest of the song and Steve couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Oh god, that’s it. No more singing the rest of the trip.”

“That’s what you think.” Bucky grinned at him.

“I’m honestly going to jump out of this car the next time you stop.”

“Go for it,” Bucky said. “That just means I can sing without you whining next to me the whole time.”

Steve shook his head and turned away from Bucky to look out his window. He didn’t want Bucky catching him smiling like a giant dork.

They drove in silence for a while, aside from Bucky’s horrible playlist going in the background. It was slightly awkward, but not as bad as Steve had been thinking it would be when he was going back and forth about texting Bucky for a ride. 

Bucky must have been reading his thoughts because he broke the silence and said, “I promise I won’t sing along the entire twelve hours, but I figured I’d start out with a bang to break the ice, make it less awkward.”

“Oh god,” Steve said with relief. “You thought it’d be awkward too?”

“Of fucking course I did. We’ve hardly been besties the last four years. We’re the definition of awkward.”

Steve was tempted to say, ‘and whose fault is that?’ but at this point Bucky probably didn’t even remember sleeping with Steve that one night nearly four years ago.

“Sam had to talk me into texting you,” Steve admitted.

“Really?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me tagging along.”

“But what about getting home for Christmas?” Bucky asked. “I take it your original plans must’ve fallen through to be desperate enough to ask me.”

“They did,” Steve nodded. “And, well, if I’m being totally honest it was Sam’s threats about me disappointing my mom that made me text you after all.”

“Ah, yes, disappointing mom. Always the killer.”

“Sam’s met my mom a couple of times and sometimes I think he’s vying for position of number one son so he wasn’t about to let me get away with shit.”

“Even at the risk of forcing you to spend an entire day in a car with me?” Bucky asked. “God, he must really love your mom. And really hate you.”

“Oh my god,” Steve said. “I’m sorry. I sound like a total asshole. You’re not that bad.”

Bucky laughed. “Thanks.”

Steve slumped down into his seat. “I’ll just shut up now.”

“No, no,” Bucky said as he reached over and patted Steve on the leg. “I was feeling the same. I know how we’ve always been.”

“Yeah, but I usually manage to hide it better.”

Bucky laughed again. “That’s what you think.”

“What?”

“You can’t lie or pretend to save your fucking life, Rogers. The uncomfortableness always oozed off of you.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “I’m really going to get out at the next stop now. It’s official.”

“No, don’t,” Bucky said. “I always thought it was pretty fucking adorable. That little fake smile of yours that makes you look constipated? That’s my favorite.”

Steve reached out and shoved at Bucky’s arm. He knew his face was turning red even though Bucky was only joking with him, his stupid brain only heard him calling him adorable and it stopped functioning immediately. “Shut up, asshole.”

“Hey, hey, watch the arm.” Bucky laughed. “I’m driving.”

“Like ten miles an hour.”

“Dude, we’re stuck in traffic.”

“Duuude,” Steve dragged out. When he looked over he saw Bucky grinning to himself and a warm rush of love went through him. He’d been the one to make him smile like that, it’d been him that’d amused him. Bucky was so gorgeous he was sure he could spend the rest of the trip just sitting sideways in his seat and looking at his face. 

Like a complete and total creeper.

He was thankful when Bucky didn’t say anything more and simply turned up the music. At least that way he could keep his trap shut, and hopefully keep his pervy thoughts at bay.

At least for a little while.

 

~*~

 

Steve must have fallen asleep because the next time he opened his eyes they were clear of the city and driving past fields covered in snow.

“Oh shit, did I fall asleep?” Steve asked as he pulled himself up in his seat.

“Complete with snoring and all.”

“I don’t snore.”

“People always say that,” Bucky said. “And yes you do. Loudly.”

“I’m pretty sure if I do snore, and that’s a huge if,” Steve said. “I snore very softly and delicately. It’s probably really soothing, like waves on the ocean.”

“Well I heard it and I’m pretty sure it’s the opposite of all of those things.”

Steve laughed to himself and rubbed his eyes. When he was done he looked over at Bucky who was driving one handed and tapping out a tune with his fingers on his leg with the other. He looked relaxed, easy within himself, and Steve realized he felt the same. It was nowhere near the awkward shitstorm he’d been expecting, in fact, it was nice. Comfortable. The car was warm, thankfully Bucky’s playlist had moved on to music sane people listened to, and Steve could just smell a hint of Bucky’s soap. Or maybe it was his shampoo. It was a clean, pleasant smell, and it made Steve want to tip himself over against Bucky’s side so he could press his nose into the crook of his neck and just breathe him in. 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, Bucky smelled just like he did four years ago.

He remembered waking up with that same scent on his skin. He’d reeked of Bucky and all he’d done was inhale. He’d breathed in the new smell of his skin, and how it combined with the smell of sex still thick in the room and in the sheets. It’d been heady, and he remembered how hard it had made him. He could feel the heat of that longing seeping into his muscles even now. 

“Are you hungry?” Bucky’s voice broke into Steve’s thoughts. “I’m starving, I could murder a plate of bacon.”

“Huh?” Steve said stupidly as he looked over at Bucky. 

“Bacon?” Bucky repeated. “Eggs? Pancakes? Breakfast, I’m starving.”

“Oh, yeah, me too.”

“It was too early to eat anything when we left and all I’ve been thinking about for the last hour has been bacon.”

“We share the same thoughts.”

Bucky laughed. “Delicious bacon thoughts?”

“Mmm. Bacon,” Steve said. “If you’ve been hungry for an hour why haven’t you stopped already?”

 

“Because you were snoring like a delicate little petal with its big, giant mouth hanging open.”

Steve turned toward Bucky. “So not only do I snore, but I look like an old grandpa with my mouth hanging open while doing it? I call bullshit.”

“You’re not cute when you’re asleep, Rogers. I hate to tell you.”

“I have it on good authority that I’m super cute when I sleep,” Steve said.

“Whoever told you that lied. Lied haaard.”

“Are you calling my momma a liar?”

Bucky looked over at Steve in silence for about a half a second before he started laughing really fucking loudly. “Oh my god, Rogers,” he said between bouts of laughter. “You’re ridiculous. I love it.”

“What?” Steve said through his own laughter, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing along even though he had no clue what Bucky thought was so fucking funny. Bucky’s laughter was contagious.

“What do you mean what?” Bucky snorted. “I thought you were going to talk about some gorgeous guy or woman you slept with being all, ‘ooh, Steve, you’re so dreamy when you sleep’ just so I could call you out and say they were lying to get back into your pants. And then you pull out the mom card. I died, Steve. I died.”

“Well, it _was_ my mom. Was I supposed to lie?”

“Oh my god, you’re the biggest fucking dork.”

Steve looked over at Bucky and knew he had to say it. “My mom says I’m cool.”

Bucky’s cackling laughter was totally worth it.

 

~*~

 

Steve watched Bucky as he attacked a stack of pancakes. He’d drowned them in syrup and it was such a childish gesture it made Steve smile.

“Having some pancakes with your syrup?” Steve asked.

Bucky just gave him a toothy grin around a mouthful. It was pretty fucking disgusting but Steve laughed anyway.

Steve rolled his eyes and went back to eating his food. After awhile he could feel Bucky staring at him.

“What?” Steve asked. “Do I have something on my face?”

Bucky shook his head no. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Fucking hell, is it your first time?”

“Shut up.” Bucky laughed. “I know you don’t think much of me but I honestly have had a thought or two in my head before. Smart ones even.”

Steve was about to give Bucky shit again, but then he processed what he’d said. It sounded like it was said in jest, but maybe Bucky might actually be bothered by what he conceived as Steve’s poor opinion of him and only used the joke as a cover. Steve looked across the table at Bucky and saw that he was looking away from him, instead Bucky’s gaze was focused on the window. 

“It’s starting to snow,” Bucky commented absently.

Steve wasn’t going to let his previous comment go. “I don’t think that,” he said. “That I don’t think much of you, I mean. I don’t think badly of you.”

Bucky looked away from the window and back to Steve. He was playing with his fork, and what was left of his pancakes. “Yeah? That’s never the impression I got.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno.” Bucky shrugged. “You’ve never seemed like you liked me all that much. I see the way you are with other people and you’re not that way with me.”

“What way?” Steve asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Well, let me see,” Bucky said. “You actually laugh and fucking talk to other people, whenever you’re around me you clam up right away and always have this annoyed, pinched little look on your face like it pains you to be near me. So I have no idea why I’d ever think you didn’t think much of me.”

“You do the same thing,” Steve shot back.

“I do not.”

“Oh yes you fucking do.” Steve couldn’t believe they were going to get into this in a diner in the middle of nowhere. “You’re the exact opposite around me than the way you are around everyone else. You talk to everyone but me —”

“Only because you act like you want nothing to do with me,” Bucky interrupted.

“Because you clearly don’t like me!” And Steve knew he said that a little too loudly, and that they really didn’t need to discuss this right now. They’d been getting along so well.

“Seriously?” Bucky asked, he sounded really fucking insulted. “You think I don’t like you? Jesus, Steve.” Bucky got up out of the booth and took his wallet out. He threw some money down on the table, enough to cover both of their breakfasts and a tip. Steve was going to argue but Bucky started talking again before he could. “Let’s go, I wanna get ahead of the snow.”

“Doubt it,” Steve said just to be argumentative. “Looks like we’re driving straight into it.”

“Whatever. Let’s go.”

Steve knew they probably looked like a couple of pissed off little kids stomping out of the diner, one right after the other. He wished he’d never bothered trying to set Bucky straight, especially when he was so fucking clueless that he was the one who was clearly in the wrong. 

They got back into Bucky’s car and didn’t say a word to each other for miles. Bucky had turned off his playlist to turn on the radio and listen for weather reports because the further they got away from the diner, the worse the snow got. Steve could see how tense Bucky’s fingers were on the wheel and he knew it wasn’t just because he was pissed off at him.

Steve felt anxious and unsettled and the weather was not helping things at all. He wasn’t sure how Bucky could even see where he was going, much less keep driving. The traffic was horrific and he could tell Bucky was probably only following the ghost of the taillights of the car in front of them. 

“Goddammit,” Bucky said out of nowhere. “Of fucking course.”

“What?” Steve asked. He had been looking out of his window to avoid looking out of the windshield and witnessing firsthand how shitty the visibility was. 

“Aren’t you listening to the radio?” Bucky asked, clearly irritated at him.

“Not really, no.”

“They just said they’re closing fucking I-90 about twenty miles ahead of us. 

Steve sighed. Of course they were. “Do you want me to look up some back roads?” he asked as he pulled out his phone.

“No,” Bucky said. “They’d be about a hundred times shittier than the one we’re on, and I can barely see the fucking car in front of me. Look for a place we can stay. I think we’re coming up on an exit for I-475.”

Steve looked for hotels off the I-475 exit, but found something even closer.  
“There’s an exit before I-475 with a motel. Should be coming up any minute now.”

Bucky gripped the steering wheel. “Keep an eye out for it, it’s all I can do to stay in my damn lane.”

They crawled along for a another fifteen tense minutes before Steve spotted the sign for the exit. “There,” he said. “It’s coming up now.”

Bucky pulled off and Steve directed him to the motel. He laughed when he saw it.

“The Lullabye Motel, huh? Did we accidentally fall through a timewarp back there?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure we’re in an episode of The X-Files, or Twin Peaks, by the looks of it.”

“Perfect,” Bucky said. “If some weird inbred pig people come to get us I’m throwing you at them first.”

Steve let out a sort of half laugh, he wanted to stay mad, but goddamn, he was just glad they were off the road and Bucky was able to make a smart ass comment again. 

When they went into the front office to get a room Steve had to stand off to the side to try to muffle his laughter because the old woman behind the counter was damn near propositioning Bucky and he kept looking back over at Steve with a look of terror mixed with amusement. The horrified half-smile on Bucky’s face apparently only fed the woman’s lust because it wasn’t until Bucky said, “Sorry, ma’am, but I don’t think my boyfriend would be too happy with me if I did,” that she stopped suggesting to him that he could come home with her.

The word ‘boyfriend’ in association with Steve was enough to sober him up and remind him once again of exactly why he was pissed with Bucky in the first place. Even though Steve could see why he said what he did, it was a low fucking blow.

Once Bucky wrangled a room key from the over-eager front desk manager they made their way back to the car to gather up their things. When they opened up the room they both swore under their breaths. 

One bed.

Of course. 

The past hour had been a series of ‘of course’s, why would this be any different?

Neither one of them said a thing about it though as they walked into the room and Bucky tossed his bag onto the lone bed and sat down. Steve figured they were both hoping for the same thing; that the problem would magically solve itself, or the bed would somehow duplicate itself right there in front of their eyes so they wouldn’t have to deal with it. Clearly neither one was in the mood.

Steve sighed and sank down into one of the two chairs that were at the small table next to the bed. 

“Throw me the remote,” Steve said. “And let’s hope to god there’s something on or this is going to be a long ass day.”

It was only one o’clock, they were in some little podunk town for the foreseeable future, and if there wasn’t at least some shit on TV to watch they’d probably end up killing each other.

Bucky reached across his chest to pick up the remote from the bedside table. He tossed it in Steve’s general direction without even looking. Steve caught it before it smacked him right in the middle of his chest. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

When he turned on the TV all that greeted him were local stations, the Home Shopping Network, and the History Channel. He sighed and decided on a marathon of some documentary or other on WWII. He didn’t think they ever played anything else.

“Do they ever play anything else on that channel?” Bucky asked.

Steve almost wanted to laugh but instead just answered that he didn’t think so. 

As the voice of the narrator droned on mixed with the sound of fighter planes and old newsreels Steve noticed Bucky had fallen asleep. There were soft snores coming from the bed and Steve looked over at him. He looked just like he had four years ago when Steve had woken up for a moment in the early morning and watched him as he slept beside him. He remembered what he felt like as he watched Bucky; stared at his mouth, and the way his eyelashes looked like they brushed against his cheeks. He remembered thinking that the two of them were at the start of something amazing. 

He remembered thinking he could do something really fucking stupid like fall desperately and horrifically in love with the boy sleeping beside him.

Steve sighed and turned back to the TV. He’d been such an idiot, and now he was stuck back with Bucky for another night together. Steve couldn’t believe the difference between then and now. His hopeful, naive eighteen year old self, and his annoyed, fed up twenty-two year old self.

He couldn’t wait to get home and to not have to deal with Bucky anymore. He’d find a different way back to school after winter break and then just flat out ignore Bucky for the last semester of school. 

He could do that. All he had to do was get through the night.

As Bucky slept Steve watched the snow pile up outside. The wind was whipping it around in violent swirls, he couldn’t even see the car in the parking lot anymore. He’d been keeping track of weather reports as he flipped through the stations at commercial breaks. The general consensus seemed to be that they were in it for the long haul, and that the dig out would be just as bad.

Steve was beginning to think that they weren’t going to be stuck for only one night.

It was close to dinnertime when Bucky finally woke up. As he sat up and rubbed his eyes Steve tried not to think about how stupidly adorable he was all sleep rumpled. His hair was a rat’s nest, and one side of his face was bright pink from being smashed against the pillow. If Steve were being honest with himself he desperately wanted to crawl onto the bed and over Bucky as he pushed him back onto the bed and kissed him until they were both muzzy and breathless. 

His hormones were horny assholes who should listen to his brain more often.

“Wha’ time issit?” Bucky asked as he squinted in Steve’s general direction.

“Little after five.”

“I’m starving, are you starving?”

“Yeah, I could eat.”

“I’m gonna go out and see what I can find for food.”

“I’m not sure you’re going to get very far, take a look outside.”

Bucky got up off the bed and moved over by Steve’s chair. There was little room to maneuver so when Bucky leaned in to look out the window his knees pressed into the outside of Steve’s thigh, and he could smell the warm laundry smell of Bucky’s flannel shirt as it fluttered close to his face. 

“Fuck me,” Bucky mumbled under his breath, and Steve’s fingers involuntarily twitched along his thigh, reached out and brushed against Bucky’s jeans. Bucky must’ve felt it because his eyes snapped away from the window and focused down on Steve.

Steve cleared his throat and leaned as far away from Bucky as he could as he inanely said, “Told ya.”

Bucky didn’t let Steve pull away from him though; he seemed to follow his movements, leaned back into him until his knees were back to pressing against Steve’s thigh. He kept his eyes zeroed in on Steve.

“You getting a signal?”

Steve looked down at his phone, cleared his throat again. “Yeah. Um. Yeah, I’ve got one.”

“See if you can find us some food.”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said as he looked back up at Bucky who nodded and dragged his knee along Steve’s thigh as he moved away to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t give a fuck what it is.”

Steve searched and when he thought he found something they plotted a course for Bucky.

“I can go too,” Steve said.

“Nah, I got it. Besides, you should stay here in case I get lost or kidnapped by those inbred pig people. Someone’s gotta warn the authorities.”

A huff of laughter escaped Steve and he noticed the quick quirk of a smile on Bucky’s lips.

“Yeah, well, they’re probably in on it too. We’re on our own, man.”

Bucky had managed to put on his boots, jacket, and stocking cap by then. He caught Steve’s eye as he wrapped his scarf around his neck. 

“A truly frightening thought,” he said as he opened the door and snow whirled around him as it swept into the room.

“Fucking terrifying,” Steve agreed.

He was pretty sure he heard Bucky crack out a laugh as he shut the door behind him.

 

~*~

 

Steve paced as the time that Bucky had been gone grew longer and longer. It’d been close to forty-five minutes and Steve was past concerned and into flat out worried territory. Just when he was about to try texting or calling him he heard the key in the lock and Bucky stumbled in. Steve took the bag he’d been carrying from him as he brushed the snow off of himself.

“Again I say, fuuuck me.” 

Bucky pulled his hat off and unzipped his jacket. Snow fell down around him into a pile on the floor. 

“I thought I was going to have to send out a search party,” Steve said as he set the bag down on the table and started unpacking it.

“There was a small grocery slash liquor store on the way to the bar and I couldn’t seem to stop my feet from walking into it.”

“I see,” Steve said as he pulled out a bottle of tequila, limes, and handful of salt packets. 

“Thankfully the bar had salt packets I could snag. For some reason the grocery store was out of salt. They had limes, but no salt. This is truly a town all its own.”

“Twin Peaks, man. I told you.” 

“I just got us some burgers and fries from the bar. An order of wings too.”

“And the necessities from the grocery store like Doritoes and chocolate,” Steve said as he pulled them out of the bag.

“Cheetos too,” Bucky said. “Don’t forget the Cheetos.”

“You’ve brought me a truly beautiful feast.”

Bucky laughed at that and Steve instantly felt a hundred percent warmer than he had before. Even Bucky’s fucking laugh was sexy. 

It was horrible.

Bucky had slipped off his boots and grabbed two of the plastic cups from the small tray that held them and an ice bucket. “Gimme,” he said as he waved his fingers at the bottle of tequila Steve still had clutched in his hand for some reason.

He handed over the tequila and Bucky crawled onto the bed with it. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed and patted the mattress next to him.

“Bring the food and hop on,” he said. 

Steve got the food containers and did just that. 

“Listen,” Bucky said as he opened up the tequila and poured them both some. “I know we don’t like each other, and I know this is a fucking shitty situation, but can we like maybe just eat and get a little drunk and not glare at each other for the rest of the night?”

“Like the Christmas Truce?” 

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, exactly like that, because our dislike for one another is just like the Germans and Brits in World War One.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah. Well.”

“Lean over and get the limes and salt. Let’s have a shot on it, celebrate our Christmas Truce.”

Steve leaned over and grabbed the bag with all of the groceries in it. When he handed it over Bucky started peeling a lime. He just shrugged and said, ‘no knife,’ when Steve gave him a look. He sectioned out the lime and handed Steve a couple of wedges along with a couple salt packets.

Steve tried not to watch when Bucky licked his wrist. 

He was extremely unsuccessful.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Bucky said as he raised his plastic glass to Steve right before he licked his wrist and downed the shot. “Oh holy shit, that is subpar tequila.” Steve laughed at him as he got his own shot ready.

“Jesus Christ, you did not lie,” Steve said once he had his breath back after his shot. Bucky gave him an, ‘I told you,’ look and laughed. 

Steve didn’t foresee the night going at all well.

 

~*~

 

A couple of hours later they had decimated the burgers, fries, and wings, and more than half the bottle of tequila. They were sprawled out across the bed, the bottle of tequila rolled back and forth between them.

Suddenly Bucky rolled across the space between him and Steve until his was up on his elbow and looking down into Steve’s face. 

“Hey, Stevie,” he said.

“What?”

“This truce is working out really great, innit?”

Steve stared up into Bucky’s eyes, all blue-grey and perfect, and his mouth all wet and red from drinking the tequila, and couldn’t think of one fucking thing to say. So he nodded.

They laid there like that for a couple of long, quiet minutes, and just stared at one another. Bucky radiated heat above him, and he could feel the soft rush of air from every breath Bucky took.

He was so drunk. They were both so fucking drunk.

Bucky’s finger touched his bottom lip, pulled away, touched again. Every nerve ending in Steve’s body was suddenly in that one spot on his bottom lip where Bucky’s finger rested. He closed his eyes for a moment and willed his heart to slow down the frantic beat it had started the second Bucky touched him.

“Your mouth —”

Steve held his breath as Bucky dragged his fingers along his bottom lip, then the curve of his jaw, waited to see what Bucky would do or say next. 

“Just like that night,” Bucky continued through the quiet. “Do you know how much I thought about your mouth?”

“What —” Steve couldn’t make himself ask the end of that question, couldn’t ask how Bucky thought about a night he didn’t care enough stay in when the morning came. He couldn’t do anything but reach up and grab Bucky’s hand to keep it in place when he started to move it away. The thought of Bucky not touching him right then was unbearable.

“Goddammit, Steve,” Bucky said as he leaned down and rested his forehead against Steve’s. 

“Bucky, I —” 

“I wanna fuck you again so bad, Steve. So bad.”

Bucky’s mouth hovered over Steve’s, so close he could feel each word he said. Each gorgeous, drunken word. So close Steve concentrated on the feel of them instead of listening to what they were saying - what they shouldn’t be saying. 

What he shouldn’t be wanting.

“Can’t we just keep up the truce?” Bucky asked. “Tonight doesn’t count. It doesn’t count.”

“Just this once,” Steve said. “It won’t count.”

“Steve.” 

Bucky’s mouth was so close now his name was a kiss, no longer a word. Steve pushed up into Bucky, made the kiss real, grabbed onto him, dug his fingers into the front of his shirt. All it took was the feel of Bucky pressed down hard into him to make them both desperate. Hands tugged at clothes, everything thrown and kicked to the floor around the bed until skin slid against skin. 

Steve was drunk. Bucky was drunk. Neither one should be doing what they were doing but Bucky fit between his thighs just right, just perfect, and they could have this one thing tonight, in the snow, and tomorrow they could blame it on the tequila. 

A drunken snow blindness. 

Steve wrapped his arms and legs around Bucky, held onto him so tight he wasn’t sure if Bucky could breathe between their kisses, but he’d wanted this since that night freshman year and he couldn’t let go. He just couldn’t. 

Bucky dug his hands into Steve’s hair, kissed and bit at his jaw and neck. Steve was breathless with it. He pushed up with hips, wanted to feel Bucky’s cock hard against his own. If he hadn’t wanted so fucking much more he’d have rubbed himself off on the smooth, hot skin of Bucky’s hip, come wet and desperate all over that taut skin. 

But Steve wanted more, he wanted to slip inside of Bucky, feel that heat again and fuck him and fuck him and fuck him until they were dizzy, stupid, and dying from it. He remembered the way Bucky felt clenched around him, so hot and tight. He’d wanted to tell Bucky that night to hold him inside him forever. One sweaty, sex soaked creature.

“Please,” Steve begged against the skin of Bucky’s throat. “Please tell me you have condoms. I wanna fuck you. Wanna remember that night.”

For a couple of moments all Bucky did was kiss, suck, ‘yes, yes, yes,’ into Steve’s skin before he scrambled off the bed and started digging through his bag. He threw a condom and a couple packets of lube at Steve’s chest as he crawled back onto the bed. He picked up a packet of lube and started to open it before Steve grabbed it out of his hand.

“Let me. I want —” Steve gasped as he wrapped his arms back around Bucky and pulled him down onto his chest. “I want to open you up. Be the one who makes you make those noises of yours. My fingers.”

Bucky breathed out Steve’s name against his shoulder.

“Those noises. Goddamn those fucking noises. They’ve echoed in my head for four fucking years.”

Bucky held Steve’s face in both of his hands and looked down at him. “You made me — You. It was you.”

“I’ve tried,” Steve said. “I’ve tried so fucking hard but there’s no one. No one sounds as sweet as you.” 

Bucky kissed him slow, deep. “Only sweet for you.”

Steve kissed him back, turned them both until Bucky was laid out on the bed beneath him. Lean and gorgeous and as perfect as he was four years ago. It seemed so far away at times, but still so glaringly intense he remembered it with perfect clarity.

It all rushed back at him when he settled himself between Bucky’s thighs; opened him up, took him in his mouth, breathed in the scent of him at his hipbone, the inside of his left thigh. Skin so soft that Steve brushed his face against it again and again until the most beautiful pink beard-burn raised up on it, marked him. And the sounds, the same perfect sounds out of Bucky’s wet mouth as he arched up, pushed himself down deeper on Steve’s fingers. 

The air was punched out of Steve’s chest when he sunk down into Bucky. The dark heat of him, the tightness, he couldn’t get air from the pleasure of it. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to last as long as he wanted to, he wanted to spend the rest of the night moving inside Bucky, feeling all of the things he’d been chasing since the first time they were together but had never found again. 

Bucky kissed away what little air was left in him and it was all Steve could do to draw in a breath. When they pulled back from each other Bucky curved his hand around Steve’s and looked up at him, his eyes so focused on Steve he couldn’t look away.

“You feel the same,” Bucky whispered. 

The words crushed Steve’s heart. 

“How’d you —” _remember_ , Steve wanted to ask. _How could you like I did?_ Bucky’s thumb pressed into the hollow at the base of his throat and he gasped, “I missed you.”

“I was right here,” Bucky said. “Why didn’t you look for me?”

Steve’s fingers traced the curve of Bucky’s mouth. “I didn’t think you wanted to be found.”

Bucky shook his head, looked like he was going to say something, but all he did was look at Steve again in that way that made his heart constrict before he tightened his hold on Steve’s neck and dragged him down into a kiss. 

And Steve kissed back. 

He kissed back and held Bucky as close, as tight to him as they could physically stand. He pulled him close until Bucky sighed into their kiss and wrapped his arms and legs around him. 

Steve dug his knees into the bed as he fucked Bucky harder. He was so close, could feel the heat building deep down in his gut, every nerve was sparking. Bucky’s words, the way he clung to him, dug his fingers into Steve’s back like he was never going to let go, was more than he could take.

“Harder.” 

Bucky’s voice was hot in his ear, close and demanding, and Steve snapped his hips, thrusted up into Bucky so that he called out. Not even a word but a shocked cry of pleasure. Again and again as Steve fucked into him.

“I can’t —” Steve gasped. “Bucky. Fuck.”

Steve shuddered and Bucky dug his fingers into his back, whispered, ‘yes, yes, yes, come on,’ in his ear. It felt so good, so fucking good. Steve felt dizzy with it, lost in a fog, but Bucky was hot beneath him and Steve wanted so badly to make him feel the same, to get his mouth on Bucky’s cock. 

“No,” Bucky whimpered and reached for him as Steve pulled out of him.

“I wanna. Please,” Steve begged as he moved down Bucky’s body. “Let me.”

“Oh Jesus, fuck,” Bucky cried out when Steve took him in his mouth. He twisted his fingers in Steve’s hair, tugged. “Like that. Your mouth, goddamn. Your fucking perfect mouth.”

Bucky’s back arched and his thighs shook as he came down Steve’s throat. Steve kept his hand pressed low on Bucky’s stomach to hold him still until his shuddering stopped and he let out a low sigh as Steve’s mouth slipped off his cock.

Bucky stretched his legs out against the sheets and Steve laid his head on his thigh, his fingers drew little swirls on Bucky’s hipbone as they both drew in deep breaths. Steve could still hear the wind whipping and blowing outside. A part of him hoped the snow would never stop so the two of them could stay right where they were, but the morning was still going to come and they’d still have to explain the night away.

None of it was going to last.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice was quiet but Steve shushed him anyway.

“Tomorrow,” Steve said as he crawled up the bed and laid down at Bucky’s side. “We’ll talk about it then.”

Bucky nodded and turned into Steve, pressed his nose into the curve of his neck. They tangled their legs together and Steve closed his eyes and fell asleep to the feel of Bucky’s breath against his skin.

 

~*~

 

Steve woke up with his face still pressed against Bucky’s neck, they’d barely moved while they slept. He felt warm and relaxed and still sex drunk. He felt fucking fantastic, and as soon as Bucky woke up it would crash to pieces. 

He’d been so stupid last night - they _both_ were stupid. Stupid as fuck. But he’d wanted Bucky, drunk or not, and he got him. Hot and wet and sweet as the first time. 

Bucky sighed and began to move against Steve as he slipped into wakefulness. He stretched out his limbs, his legs slid along the length of Steve’s as he moaned and turned back toward Steve, burrowed in even closer. 

“You stink,” Bucky muttered, but made no effort to move away.

Steve couldn’t help himself, he smiled. “Thanks.”

“Like it,” Bucky said, quiet, soft. Steve smoothed his fingers along Bucky’s collarbone. “You smell like me,” he continued as he opened his eyes and tipped Steve’s face up so he could look at him. “And sex and sweat and this shitty motel room. You smell so fucking good.” 

Steve just about died when Bucky started to rut against him, pressed his nose into his skin and inhaled long, deep breaths. Along his neck, the center of his chest as Bucky’s fingers brushed through his chest hair, tugged and pulled at it. The blood rushed hot and quick into Steve’s cock when Bucky pushed at Steve’s arm, lifted it, so he could bury his face in his armpit, took deep breaths all dark and musky. He wanted Bucky all over again, every messy, filthy inch of him. 

Bucky slid his thigh between Steve’s legs, let it tease and just barely brush against his cock. He damn well knew Bucky wanted him begging and desperate and fucking himself against his thick muscled thigh. He was already in it, already pathetic with desire and love for Bucky, what did it matter if he begged a little more? Rutted and fucked against him like an animal?

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hair and yanked his head back so he could kiss him, he wasn’t gentle or kind about it and Bucky laughed into his mouth, low and satisfied. And Steve wanted to say horrible things to him to make him stop, to shut him up and make it all disappear, but then Bucky’s tongue was in his mouth all wet and messy as he gasped for air and fucked himself against Steve’s hip. 

Bucky cried out when he came in hot spurts on Steve’s hip and thigh, whispered things that made Steve love him and hate him. “We’re so good. … We’re so good, Steve, so fucking good. … Why’d you leave me?”

Steve wanted to say, ‘I didn’t. I didn’t. You left me. And I hate you.’ but his orgasm crashed through him and clung to Bucky instead. He wanted to tear him apart and never let him go. He floated on the high, felt the tears building up in the corners of his eyes. No one else ever made him feel like this, feel so much and so hard. He vibrated with it. How could people stand feeling this way? How was it possible to keep putting one foot in front of the other when there was just so fucking much thrumming through them beneath their skin? 

“I didn’t,” Steve finally got out once his breath came back to him and his mind settled. 

“What?” Bucky’s voice was so close. They were hot and wet with each other’s come but neither one had let go. Couldn’t, maybe.

“I didn’t leave you. Didn’t want to, but you were gone.”

Bucky’s hand was warm on his neck as he held him in place, forced him to look at him. “No, _you_ were gone. I got back and Nat said you were gone.”

“Got back?”

“Yeah, from the drugstore. And the coffee place.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve pulled Bucky’s hand from his neck and sat up. “I woke up and you were gone, fucked off —”

“Yes I was gone, I was at the drugstore,” Bucky almost shouted at him as he sat up too. “Getting more condoms. I wanted to spend the rest of the weekend fucking you but I was out of condoms. You were the one who just fucked off.”

“How was I supposed to know that? I’m not fucking psychic.”

“I left you a note. Right next to your fucking phone.”

“Bullshit, there was no note.”

“I slipped it right under your phone so you’d be sure to see it.”

Steve’s heart raced, had he remembered it all wrong? Had he fucking missed the note? How could he have missed a goddamn note?

“There wasn’t a note. I would’ve seen it. I —”

Bucky laughed, sad and bitter with disbelief as he grabbed Steve’s face with both of his hands. “I wrote you a note. I wrote it out as I watched you sleep and thought about how the last fucking thing I ever wanted to do was get out of that bed, but I thought if I was quick I could maybe get back before you woke up. That I could slide back into bed behind you, wrap my arms around you and slip back inside you where it was all tight and warm and just fuck you awake.”

Steve saw the whole fucking disaster of a morning perfectly; his insecurities mixed with his desperate desire for Bucky, the shock of feelings for him had made him quick to panic and his anxiety to roar. It would’ve been so horribly easy to miss a note in the state he was in. He wanted to cry, it was all so fucking stupid. A stupid fucking misunderstanding. How could they both have been so stubbornly, willfully stupid about it all?

“I’m sorry.” Steve could barely find his voice around the thick clog of tears in his throat. “I didn’t see it, I just thought. I thought you couldn’t possibly want me as much as I wanted you. You have no idea how I felt, how much —”

“I have an idea,” Bucky said as he ran his thumbs across Steve’s cheekbones. 

“But you don’t know how fast I fell. I was so naive and stupid and didn’t know how to handle anything at all.”

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice was so soft, and he’d leaned in so that his lips brushed against Steve’s. “I fell in love with you the moment I asked you to dance and you shouted at me that all you could do was the Roger Rabbit. I was every bit as stupid.”

Steve burst into laughter, it was all so idiotic and wonderful, and god fucking dammit he could’ve been loving Bucky out loud for four fucking years instead of simmering with it all inside of him. 

“I’m really good at the Roger Rabbit.” Steve smiled against Bucky’s lips as he ran his fingers up into Bucky’s hair and held on.

“I know, you showed me. I was amazed and turned on all at once. It was a life moment for me, Steve.”

They were both laughing when they kissed, and Steve was glad to find Bucky’s face was just as wet as his. He didn’t want to be the only one crying over their fucked up mess of a life.

“Tell me what it said,” Steve said as soon as they stopped kissing.

“Oh god, it was super fucking sappy and so so dumb.”

“Tell me anyway,” Steve said as he laughed at the blush coloring Bucky’s cheeks. He was so unfairly gorgeous when he blushed.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “It said that you were beautiful and that I could hardly stand to look at you and I was so glad it wasn’t the beer goggles talking the night before. Then I told you not to dare leave the bed because I was going to fuck you all day long after I ran out to get some more condoms. I also ended it by drawing a picture of my happy penis next to my name, so there’s that too.”

Steve laughed, but when he took Bucky’s hand he was completely serious when he said, “I knew there was a reason I fell so hard in love with you that night.”

“My happy penis?”

“Yep. How could I not?”

Bucky kissed him again, a slow, gentle kiss, and then his voice so sad as he said, “Stevie. God.”

“I know.” Steve wrapped him up in his arms. “I fucking know.”

So many years wasted on the dumbest misunderstanding humanly possible. But who knows, maybe they’d have crashed and burned. There had been something manic to the intensity of Steve’s love for Bucky that night, something that probably could never have sustained itself for any amount of time. Not that he was any wiser four years later, but maybe being together now, after it all having been so hard earned, would endure longer and steadier than that four years ago love. 

Steve kissed Bucky’s neck, the curve of his jaw. “I’m not going to say I love you, even though I know I do, because we need to get to know each other now. I want to fall in love with you day by day until I’m filled up with it.”

“So now I can do it officially?” Bucky asked. “I don’t have to pretend that I’m not falling more in love with you every time I see you?”

“If that was you pretending you did a really fucking fantastic job of it. I thought you hated me. You never talked to me if you could help it.”

“You did the same.”

“I know.”

“Self preservation, right?” 

Steve nodded and kissed Bucky again. “I had to keep telling myself to hate you, and I kept hoping every damn time that it’d somehow come true. I thought making you hate me would make it easier.”

“Well we’re starting over,” Bucky said as he took Steve’s hand. “Starting from today we’ll only be good to each other, and if we are assholes to one another it’s for real reasons. It’ll be because we’re actual assholes.”

“Sounds like a brilliant plan.” Steve laughed. “We’re really good at being assholes.”

“We’re the best.”

They smiled at each other and Bucky leaned into kiss Steve before pulling him back down onto the bed with him. Steve yanked the sheet and blankets back up over them, all the way over them until they were completely covered. A dark little cocoon for just the two of them.

“What do you think the weather is like?” Bucky asked. 

“Dunno.” Steve settled himself into Bucky’s arms. “But can I say I really hope it’s still shitty out there and we can just stay here another day?”

“In our little sex haven?”

Steve laughed. “We have really low standards for sex havens.”

“Baby, anywhere with you is a first class sex haven.” Steve snorted, and started laughing again so hard tears came to his eyes. “What? I thought that was a good line.” Bucky said, the laughter clear in his voice as well.

“You have absolutely zero game, Barnes, and I love it an obscene amount,” Steve said once he could talk again. 

“Only because you have zero game yourself, you don’t want to be the lamest in the room.”

“Very true.”

Bucky laughed as he leaned across Steve and poked his head out of the covers so he could grab his phone off the nightstand. When he popped back under the covers the glow illuminated their cocoon and Steve kissed along Bucky’s shoulder as he looked up the weather and road conditions.

“The storm is still over us and the interstate is still closed.” Bucky smiled at him. “Looks like we might be here another day.”

Steve snatched the phone out of Bucky’s hand and tossed it aside. He threw a leg over Bucky’s hip and kissed him. “Just what I was hoping for.”

“Me too.”

“And,” Steve said as he drew Bucky in for another kiss. “If we need more condoms how about I get them this time?” Bucky laughed loud and clear as he flopped himself over Steve and started to kiss him breathless.

And Steve started his long, fierce fall back into love with Bucky Barnes.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me [here](http://gigi-gigi.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


End file.
